The Wrong Place
by Anaroriel
Summary: A teenage girl is sent to Middle Earth after deciding to run away from home one night. She meets the Fellowship, and joins their traveling group against her will until the Fellowship gets to the next town. But is there more trouble from the addition than


Marie lay in the dark, listening to voices of her parents through the paper thin walls. They were talking about her again, she knew, for it was the same tone of disappointment and frustration they used every time now they were talking about their daughter. She knew she messed up, but Catherine and David Wells expected more of their daughter. The bitter shame and guilt she felt was not enough; it never was. Marie reached out and pulled her large stuffed duck closer to her as the voices grew louder. Blame was passed back and forth between the mother and father as did the rumble of anger in their voices at each accusation. But it was Marie's fault, and she knew it; no one else's but hers.

'I need to get out of here,' she thought desperately in the stillness of her mind. 'They don't want me, and I can't stand to be here anymore!' With sudden force and an air of decision, she threw her duck across the room and began to search for her pack. Once finding it, she stuffed in a pair of clothes and a jacket, and changed out of her pajamas. She took extra care to stuff her dark hair in a hat and put on baggy clothes to hide her gender. If she was to run away like her heart was telling her to, she needed to remain anonymous and male. As she packed, she ignored the trembling in her movements and the shame empowering her mind. Mary threw in her savings, which was about ninety dollars in cash, and a few fake ids. Her mind was trying to reason with her against the madness of her flight, but her strong and painful emotions refused to listen. Finally, Mary looked at her stuffed duck with longing, but kicked it away instead, chastising herself for being too old to have a stuffed animal. Still, she gave it one last look, the last shreds of her childhood and comfort crumpled on the floor.

The girl opened her bedroom door, which squeaked loudly, but her parents were too deep in conversation to notice. She hurried to the kitchen and filled a bottle with water and stored a few snacks in her backpack, as well as taking some maps that were lying in the cabinet. The keys to her car dangled from their usual peg near the door, and Marie considered taking the vehicle before realizing it would be easier to track her. She shook her head and walked past the keys while her mind shrieked at her forcefully to take them so she could be found and brought back again. 'How silly,' she thought; and with one glance at her home of seventeen years, she left it with the intention to never come back.

Marie took a city bus downtown and arrived in the city park to look over the maps she stole. One of which was the map of the city her parents gave to teach her the streets when she began to drive. She remembered with sudden clarity the day her mother gave her the maps. Marie could never remember the street names and her family teased her mercilessly about her lack of memory skills. Her mother had smiled at her when she handed her the map and Marie promised to study hard so she could drive. She never did look at the map again, but learned the streets and their positions regardless. That was a year ago, and life had taken a dark turn from that point on. Her family had loved her then.

Marie pushed the memory out of her mind and turned her attention back to the situation at hand. Where was she to go? How was she to live? And what was she to do when the thing that her parents hated her for came to haunt her? She had a grandmother that lived in the mid-west who might be willing to take her in, but was she willing to go back to family? "No," she answered out loud, "I am done with family." She flipped through the other maps in vain before coming to the last one. California. 'Well, it seems as good a plan as any,' she decided and picked up her pack to go to the bus station. A dense little cluster of trees stood her way, and without thinking, stepped through it with the intention of coming out to find the bus station. The little cluster of trees was dark and a little frightening, and she cursed herself for being so idiotic and walking through a dark way in a dangerous city downtown. She quickened her pace but the other side of the cluster never appeared. The darker and larger trees grew the more she knew she walked away from the comfort of the artificial light, and soon her world was shrouded in black.

"How in the world?" she muttered to herself as she studied her surroundings. She didn't think that it was possible to become this dark in the middle of a bustling city. 'Maybe this is a trick of the light and if I keep moving I can get to the other side,' she thought, and began to walk quickly in the direction of the bus station. Up ahead she could see light and breathed a sigh of relief. But something at the edge of her mind was bothering her now and refused to leave her. It was unusually quiet. She could not hear the sound of automobiles or people. It was dead silent. She could hear a strange but familiar crackling sound ahead of her, and Mary headed towards it in hopes of finding her way out. She pushed a tree limb out of her way to reveal not the bus station, but a group of men surrounding a camp fire. At least, some of them looked like men. A chill ran down her body and she shivered involuntarily. Something was not quite right, and the night air became unbearably cold. She shook her head and decided to act against the warning every inch of her body was sending her, and walked over to the fire hesitantly.

"Excuse me," she said, purposely pitching her voice low. She had had too many instances when a man would try to take advantage of her because she was alone and female, and these men she did not trust at all. No, it was much smarter to pretend to be male, and safer. "Do you know where the bus station is?" She barely finished her sentence when all of them jumped to their feet and pointed various weapons at her. 'Crap, I forgot to bring a knife,' she thought as she raised her arms up in surrender.

"What are doing here? Are you a spy of Saruman?" one demanded to know.

"No! I'm not a spy! I swear! I'm just trying to get to the bus station!" in her fright her voice went up several octaves and they could now tell that she was no man. She took a step back and hurriedly tried to think of a plan to get out of there without being harmed.

Some children behind the men who carried little swords lowered their weapons in confusion when they heard the rather feminine voice come from what they believed was a man.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" cried a dark-haired man. Marie took a step back. The order terrified her, and she wasn't entirely certain what they meant. Then she remembered she was wearing a cap that she had pulled down low to hide her face. She snatched it off and her hair was released to fall about her shoulders. Marie was very proud of her hair, for it had the certain flexibility, style and length that was perfect for flipping to attract boys. She resisted the urge to flip it just then; she had the wild idea that perhaps they would think her a prostitute and she could make a little money before she traveled to California.

"It's a child," one of them announced. They all lowered their weapons warily in case it was a trick.

"Hey! I'm not a child! I am a woman who is fully capable of herself and any man!" she protested. And to prove her point, she flipped her hair seductively.

The dark-haired man bowed his head courteously. "I apologize, my lady. Please sit and tell us of yourself and how you happened to come here."

She hesitated. "I really need to get going. You know, I'm on a time schedule and I don't know when the next bus is to California, and I don't want to be late or anything." Then she mentally shrugged; this place was as good as any place to hide for the moment, and she had a feeling the bus would leave in the morning. "I guess I can stay for a little bit. I mean, if you guys don't mind." Marie sat down and for the first time actually saw what they were wearing. "Oh my God! What are you wearing?"

They looked surprised and the man with a large disc said, "Traveling clothes, my lady." Marie could not tell what the disc was for. It was the strangest thing, large and perfectly round, and resembled a large lid for a pot. 'Or maybe it a random mirror,' she thought, for it was shiny enough for a looking glass.

"Hmm, right." She continued after a raise of her eyebrows to reveal her skepticism. "Well, my name is... Janice Smith," she lied. It seemed for the best not to tell her real name to this group of dangerous thugs.

"Janice Smith," an old man said thoughtfully; he looked like he didn't believe her. Mary had to stop herself from sighing: she was never very good at lying. The old man was probably the most unusual of the group, however. He appeared to be very old, in his eighties at least, and had a thick grey beard and was wearing a long grey dress. Mary had to look twice to reassure herself that her eyes were not playing tricks on her in the darkness. Yes, the old man was wearing a dress. "I am Gandalf the Grey, this is Aragorn son of Arathorn, Boromir son of Denethor, Legolas son of Thrandruil, Gimli son of Gloin, Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took." He gestured to each in turn and then watched her gravely. His eyes shone with great intelligence and honesty; and they had a look about them that suggested that he could dismiss her tough act and see her for the lost little girl she was.

Marie broke his gaze and swallowed dryly. "Well, jeez, if you're going to make up names, you'd might as well make them sound convincing. I mean, come on, Gandalf the Grey? Ara-something son of Ara-whatever? I know what you are doing. You're some gang trying to make yourself different by going with this garb. I tell you, you'd might as well go with the rapper theme 'cause this really isn't working for you. And let me tell you something, using little kids to do your dirty work and to give them weapons is so uncool, all right? Not cool at all." The gang looked puzzled and one of the boys, Pippin, she thought his name was, scratched his head and squinted his eyes. Marie shook her head in disgust and got up to leave.

"My Lady," Gandalf said respectfully, "I am afraid that we cannot let you go until we know that you are no spy."

"Don't worry, I won't rat you out to the cops," she said.

He continued as if he didn't hear her, or perhaps he just couldn't understand her. "Now, please, sit. We promise to not harm you in any way. Tell us the truth about who you are and where you come from and we will help you. I don't believe you to be a spy," he added, "but I do know it is too dangerous for a woman," he saw her about to protest and amended, "for anyone to travel by herself, or himself, at night with no towns nearby. So please, enlighten us to your situation."

Marie fell to the ground limply and stared at the group as if they were mad. She did not know what held her there, but she convinced it was the threat of weapons. She also knew that if she tried to run, three of the men present looked stronger and faster than she, and could catch her if she tried to escape. "Fine," she rolled her eyes and began to get comfortable. She had no place to go until morning anyway, she told herself. "My real name is Marie Wells. My father's name is David Wells, because apparently fathers' names are important to you lot, sons of whomever. I am not a spy. I live in this city and was taking a walk, all right? It's not like I shouldn't be cautious. No one should ever give out their real names to strangers. I mean, even you didn't. But I suppose there is no harm in telling you. Just don't tell anyone who asks that you know me, ok?"

"What city do you live in?" Gandalf asked quietly.

"This city! I told you that. This very one, ok? Can I go now?" Marie asked desperately. She was beginning to become hysterical. All of her senses were in a battle over the uncalled desire to stay here and the urgent instinct to flee from the campsite.

Aragorn and Gandalf exchanged glances while the company continued to stare at her. "No," Gandalf said finally. "You can stay here the night and then we'll see in the morning."

"What? Are you holding me hostage? You can't do that!" And then she realized they could. They had weapons, she didn't. They were faster and stronger, and she was not a fast runner to begin with, nor did she know how to protect herself past the basics of self defense. They could do anything they wanted. She wanted to scream in frustration. Her instincts of wrongness had won the battle and she began to cry and couldn't stop. It was too late to run now. Her emotional stress that had been building up for a few days finally burst from her internal dam. "Fine! But I won't be happy about it! You'll be sorry! My father is a very important person and he's get you for this! Oh, you'll be sorry!" she lied again as she screamed at them. Her father worked for a credit card company and wasn't important, and she almost cried harder when she thought about it. She had run away from her father, whom she loved, and now she knew he'd be frantic looking for her. These men could kill her and she had no way of telling him that she loved him. She shouldn't have run away, she knew that now, but it was too late to undo the past. She would be dead by morning, she was sure of it.

"Go to sleep, we promise we won't harm you," said Aragorn quietly. Marie didn't believe him and continued to sob. But after a while, she was exhausted by her emotional state and fell into an uneasy sleep.

"I think she is a runaway, either from her parents or from her husband." The two men, called Aragorn and Gandalf talked while they watched her fitful sleep. "She talks oddly, I have never heard a dialect such as hers before, but she resembles the Gondorian people." Aragorn said softly.

"Indeed, but it amazes me how she got this far from Gondor if she truly is from there. It is very odd. We cannot let her continue on without an escort, it is too dangerous for a maiden. We should take her with us until we get to the next town or village." Gandalf said.

"But we cannot take the maiden with us! It is much too dangerous for her."

"If she can make it this far from wherever she came from I think she can travel a little farther. We will have to learn more about her before we make judgments about her." He paused and studied the sleeping girl. "She is very frightened, Aragorn, and very confused and hurt. It is impossible to leave a girl so fragile alone in these woods, especially when we know how dangerous the world has become. We must not lie to her, but be careful what we say, otherwise I fear she might flee from us and run into danger."

"The next town then, but no farther. But something is not right here, Gandalf, and I won't go against the warning in my heart. I have a feeling that cannot be pacified; she should not be here, and something terribly wrong will occur as a result of her appearing to us. Something terribly wrong," he muttered at last. The adding of the girl to their small band did not sit well with him and no matter what assurance he presented to himself, he could lift the unease that drifting onto the campsite.


End file.
